Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.

It frustrates and fascinates me that we'll never know for sure, that despite the best efforts of historians and scientists and poets, there are some things we'll just never know. What the first song sounded like. How it felt to see the first photograph. Who kissed the first kiss, and if it was any good.

What I'm saying is, when you have weight like that in your life, you have to start looking for the bigger picture or you are gonna sink.

We eat and sleep and shuffle through the fog, walking a marathon with no finish line, no medals, no cheering.

Once again the absurdity of my inner thoughts overwhelms me, and I want to crawl out of my skin, escape my ugly, awkward flesh and be a skeleton, naked and anonymous.

We will cry and bleed and lust and love, and we will cure death. We will be the cure. Because we want it.

One mistake, one brief lapse of my new found judgement-that's all it took to unravel everything. What a massive responsibility, being a moral creature.